


Swallow Your Pride

by Quarantinevibes



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Bickering, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders & Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders Are Twins, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders Angst, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders-centric, Descriptions of Blood, Fainting, Gen, Guilt, Hurt/Comfort, Insecure Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Panic Attacks, Protective Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, Swearing, Sympathetic Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, Sympathetic Deceit | Janus Sanders, Vomiting, disturbing imagery, hurt roman sanders, sibling dynamics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-18
Updated: 2020-07-23
Packaged: 2021-03-04 17:47:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25360378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quarantinevibes/pseuds/Quarantinevibes
Summary: Roman tries to tell himself he’s fine, but the truth is ripped out of him.Literally.-OR-Janus messes up, Remus is a good brother, and Roman tries to hide the growing number of increasingly disturbing artworks that seem to spring from his mind and spill unbidden from his fingertips.Updates Daily!
Comments: 587
Kudos: 589





	1. The Golden Thread

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!!  
> Thanks so much for clicking on this story and reading! Hope you enjoy the chapter!!

It was fine. Really.

Everyone made mistakes, Roman just happened to make them rather often. And his mistakes tended to be the in-your-face sort.

When he realized he was pushing Thomas too hard to achieve perfection, he backed off. When he failed in helping Thomas maintain his dream relationship, he backed off. When he couldn’t come up with an original idea (again), he told Thomas he’d go back to the drawing board. When Thomas decided not to go to the callback, he promised to do the same thing.

The aforementioned drawing board sat in front of Roman. He barely looked at it as his hands swept around the paper, leaving lines of criss-crossing graphite.

It was fine. It was _fine_. He was Creativity, he’d come up with something eventually.

More scritching on the drawing board. Roman distantly noted that he had switched to a waxy crayon, leaving splotched, textured red on the paper.

Things had blown over a bit since the snake revealed his name. It was still tense when he and Roman were in the same room, but there was no use in dwelling on what had happened. On the implications of how Thomas saw him or any of that. In Roman’s heart, he knew Thomas would never hate him so throwing himself a pity party wasn’t going to do anyone any good. If Roman just stuck to it and did his job it would fine. It _was_ fine.

Roman nodded to himself and looked down at his creation.

His nose wrinkled in disgust.

A man rendered in vivid strokes of dark graphite knelt on the ground. The curves of his arms were caught, his body nearly hyper-realistic but his face expressionless as he ripped a dripping waxy red heart out of his throat with desperate hands captured in angry strokes. If anyone had seen it, they might have appreciated the careful, seamless shading. The midtones were masterfully separated and the heart’s waxy medium made it as if it were beating on the paper.

Roman wanted to burn it.

Instead, he sighed and buried it in a drawer filled with similar, grotesque works.

Roman didn’t know why, but lately it was all he could produce. Sometimes, while he slept, his room would command his art supplies and he’d wake to a pile of portraits, paintings, and panels scattered about. Always a man. Always grotesque. Always something worthless that no one could ever use. Roman shoved the near-bursting drawer shut.

Roman sighed again and got up. He summoned a mirror. They were planning to film a video in a few minutes and as their resident prince, Roman had to at least look the part.

He glanced at the mirror, decidedly not looking the part. The dark circles and unkempt hair he could simply snap away. The lifeless locks suddenly bounced, gleaming with health, and his outfit smoothed itself and removed the stains of graphite.

Roman patted his face a few times.

_C’mon Roman! It takes less muscles to smile than to frown!_

His face was not cooperating. Roman squished his cheeks together, closed his eyes, and tried again. He moved his eyebrows up, he made sure his eyes crinkled at the corners, and he shot the mirror the brightest smile he could manage. Looking at his reflection, he was almost jealous of who stared back.

Roman shook his head. None of that thinking. No pity party, remember?

With an award-winning smile on his face, Roman rose into the common room.

“You’re late, Princey,” Virgil greeted with a nod from the staircase.

“Fashionably late, as always,” Roman quipped back instantly.

“You call that fashion?”

“You call that eyeshadow?”

“It is eyeshadow, Roman. What else would you call it?” Logan asked from his spot.

“Eyeshadow? More like eyesha-don’t,” Roman said with a grin. The banter was familiar. Safe. Roman could feel himself easing into it until-.

“And _I_ think we should get back on track with this video.”

Roman narrowed his eyes at the yellow-clad side.

“No one asked for your opinion, Hand-ibal Lec-ture.”

“And that hasn’t led to disastrous results in the past,” Janus replied with a raised eyebrow. Roman could feel his princely expression falter as the implications of that statement settled in. Patton shuffled next to the blinds and cleared his throat. Janus sighed and looked at him. The two of them seemed to have a silent conversation.

When had they gotten so close?

After Roman had sunken out after the wedding? Did they perhaps bond over all of their mistakes? All of his mistakes? All-

Roman shook his head. He was starting to sound like a certain spider. He banished the thoughts from his mind.

“Thomas,” Janus crooned smoothly, “why don’t you tell us what this video will be about?”

Thomas had been watching the five of them silently until then (Remus was off who-knows-where) and nodded.

“Well,” Thomas started, eyes darting between them before looking into the camera, “the viewers have been wondering about all of your abilities!”

Logan cocked his head. “Abilities?” he asked. Thomas nodded again.

“Yeah! Like how Roman can conjure stuff super easily,” Thomas pointed to Roman who winked and conjured an apple. It was bright red and as Thomas kept talking, Roman squinted at it. Something seemed off. He turned the apple around in his hand, noticing the red dripping off like-

Roman quickly waved it away before anyone else could notice.

“-And Logan’s practically a walking library! So like, the viewers want to know,” Thomas continued, mercifully unaware of the corrupted conjuring, “about the other sides. They’re especially interested in you, Janus,” Thomas said with a smile.

Janus blinked, his response uncharacteristically slow.

“Me?”

“That’s right, kiddo!” Patton said brightly, a tone that Roman hadn’t heard directed towards himself since he had sunk out that day, “You’ve been a sneaky snake for most of this series, the viewers are dying to know a little more!”

Janus looked from Thomas to Patton.

“Oh,” he said quietly. Roman almost swore that there was small blush dusting his cheeks.

“I mean,” Janus said clearing his throat, “Of _course_ they would. I _am_ rather interesting.”

“Oy,” Virgil said, exasperated. Janus ignored him.

“Well, Thomas. I won’t reveal everything to you,” he winked, “I don’t think you’d expect I would.”

Thomas shook his head, patiently waiting for Janus to continue.

“But, I do have this nifty ability to make people tell the truth.”

Thomas blinked.

“You do?”

Janus nodded.

“He’s obviously lying, Thomas,” Roman said before he could stop himself, “If he could, why bother with the whole courtroom scenario?”

Janus hummed.

“Making Thomas work through his own feelings and come to that conclusion on his own was more important.”

Logan looked up, “You don’t think that directly getting him to tell the truth would have been effective?”

Janus smirked, “If I did that, would you have believed it was the truth? Back then?”

“Fair point,” Logan conceded and the conversation was about to switch gears with Thomas asking for clarification on how Virgil’s eyeshadow changed with his mood when Janus piped up.

“Though, like Roman said, it is perhaps not wise to take me at my word.”

Thomas titled his head at Janus who placed a hand on his chin.

“Would you like a demonstration?”

“Oh you’d be willing to- ye-yeah!” Thomas exclaimed, “I’m sure the viewers would love that! Go ahead!” Thomas spread his arms and puffed out his chest as if he were standing at the helm of a ship. Janus snorted.

“I think the viewers get your truths rather often, Thomas. I believe it may be more interesting with…someone else.”

Janus locked eyes with Roman.

“You did say I was lying and, sweet Prince, it takes a liar to know a liar.”

Roman shifted uncomfortably at Janus’s flowery language that dripped too sweet. It wasn’t like he had anything to hide, but doing anything with the snake did not sound gratifying.

“Now Roman, you don’t have to if it makes you uncomfortable,” Logan said. Virgil nodded.

Roman looked at Thomas whose eyes dimmed for a moment before he caught Roman looking and he brightened up. Roman shook his head, resolute. Thomas thought that this would make the video better. Of course he would do it.

“Hit me with your best shot, Lie-ma bean. _Has_ -bean.”

“Oh, I intend to,” Janus bit out and slinked closer to Roman.

Before Roman could reply, Janus had put a hand on his chest. The spot glowed gold and a glittered thread appeared, hovering above his heart. Janus gave it a small tug and it began to unspool.

_I actually really want to borrow Virgil’s eyeshadow._

Roman yelped. The voice had come from him but he hadn’t spoken. He turned red as Virgil raised an eyebrow.

“We’ll make it a day. I’ll cover your face in eyeshadow and teach you the way of the emo,” he said with a grin. Roman groaned in embarrassment.

_I wish I could pull off a hat._

Roman squeaked as Janus’s eyebrows shot up.

“Not everyone has the gift,” Janus said with a playful smirk. Roman rolled his eyes.

“Yes, yes, alright. Demonstration ove-”

_I don’t want to be here._

Roman’s eyes widened as Thomas blinked in surprise.

“Oh, sorry Ro are you not feeling well? We can stop recording if you wan-”

_I don’t want to be here._

_I don’t need to be here._

_Nobody needs me._

Roman gasped and grabbed the thread, trying to get it to stop.

“That’s enough!” Virgil yelled and tugged at Janus’s sleeve. Janus frowned.

_I’ll just mess everything up._

Roman slammed a hand in front of his mouth, but the thread continued to tug itself out of him.

_I can’t do anything right._

“Stop,” Roman tried to say, but his voice evaporated like wisps of smoke.

_I’m awful._

_I’m a failure._

Roman tried to shield his face from the camera. Where was the camera? He looked up, realizing with a start that he had sunken to the ground.

“JANUS,” Virgil yelled, dual-toned. Logan was sitting next to Roman, saying something, but Roman couldn’t focus on it. His voice, the amplified one that seemed to spill unbidden from the thread, filled his ears.

_Worthless._

_Everything I make isn’t good enough._

_I’m not good enough._

_I’m not good._

“I don’t understand! I can’t stop it!” Janus yelled in frustration. He was kneeling in front of Roman, holding the rapidly unspooling thread in his hands.

“Well figure it out!” yelled the person to Roman’s side. Logan? Was that Logan? Roman’s head felt fuzzy, like someone was balancing a kettle-bell on his nasal bone.

_Not worthy._

_Always wrong._

“Stop,” Roman croaked out, this time successful, “Janus stop, it-it hurts.”

Janus paled. He whipped around.

“Thomas, you can stop it.”

“What?!” Thomas screamed from where he was standing next to an equally shocked Patton.

“Listen, my powers get more,” he spared a glance at Roman, “aggressive if someone has been…bottling things up for a while. But, like Virgil said ‘anything you want to know, you can know’. You can also stop wanting to know.”

“What? What does that even mean??

_Can’t create._

_Shouldn’t create._

Roman clutched at his chest, fully huddled in on himself. He was vaguely reminded of the drawing he had done earlier.

“It means,” Janus hollered, the thread spilling over his hands, “it means you can stop any one of our abilities if you choose to so,” he looked up desperately, “ _stop me_.”


	2. The Truth (and the rest) Comes Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roman tried to keep it all in-now it's all coming out (literally)
> 
> Notes: Vomiting, scratching

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lemoney Cricket!  
> And Jiminy Snicket!!  
> Thank you all so much for reading and commenting! 😭💘 If you came from my last fic, you'll know that the ending for it was SUPER fluffy, so. This one's starting right out the door with the angst. Balance. 
> 
> (Roman, in the distance: But why me tho???)
> 
> Hope you enjoy the chapter! ;)

Roman hated crying.

It was strange, really. He knew that there was nothing degrading about having a good cry. Back when they had Disney nights, he was always the first to lend a shoulder to an overemotional Patton or hand a subtle tissue to Virgil who’d nod his thanks.

Roman wasn’t crying now. Huddled on himself, watching every dirty thought literally spill out of him, somehow he wasn’t. He hadn’t cried since Thomas’s last break up. Not when the callback he worked so hard for was slashed away by his own doing. Not even when he realized that the people he relied on to have his back perhaps, sometimes, wouldn’t.

_I don’t deserve them._

They were the thoughts that Roman had pushed down, far, far into the corner of his mind. They all came rushing to the surface, filling the room with crushing force. A blur of yellow was in front of him (gloved hands waving frantically) and Thomas was squeezing his eyes shut. Was he ok? Was Thomas ok?

Had Roman hurt him somehow?

_I already have hurt him._

_Irredeemably._

_I should just make it easier on everyone an-_

Roman choked.

Slowly at first, but with rapidly gaining speed, the golden thread wound itself and shot back into Roman’s chest. Roman watched, half in horror and half in fascination, as it writhed and coiled around itself, leaving the room in deafening silence.

“Good, good job Thomas, remember to breathe. You did it,” said Virgil, kneeling next to Thomas.

Thomas had gone red in the face with concentration, the veins in his head popped out and stood stark against his skull. Roman looked up, catching on a bright red that stained the bottom lip of the side next to him. Roman reached out to wipe at it, but ended up falling forwards despite already being on his knees.

Logan yelped in surprise, catching Roman.

“Roman, Roman are you alright?”

Roman blinked.

“Not the one that’s bleedin’,” he slurred as a reply. Logan’s eye widened slightly and he wiped at his lip. Roman felt another hand on his shoulder. A yellow pupil bore into him.

“Roman? Roman I- that wasn’t,” Janus chewed his bottom lip, “it was only supposed to be an innocent prank.”

 _You’re not good at those_ Roman wanted to say, but didn’t have the energy.

“Are you feeling ok?”

 _No_ came the resounding answer from Roman’s mind. Roman felt sick. He felt sick he felt- he was going to be _sick_.

Roman sunk out as quickly as he could.

He stumbled when he hit the floor. His legs almost buckled and he heard a sound come from the corner of the room. Roman ignored it, making a beeline for the bathroom.

He knee hit the corner of a desk. Strange, he could normally navigate his room with his eyes closed, even in his disheveled state.

He bumped another table on the way to the bathroom, flung open the toilet lid so harshly he was surprised the ceramic didn’t shatter, and heaved spattered, clumpy yellow into the bowl.

He heaved again, and again. Everything in his minds had come out and now his stomach contents were following closely behind. Roman wanted to get rid of it. All of it. The feeling of his thoughts being ripped out of him, the ugly truths, the pathetic appearances he had been keeping up. The sinking realization that if he was forced to tell the truth then everything he had just said, everything he was trying to convince himself away from, all of it _was_ true. All of it, all of it, he needed to flush the thoughts away and never think about them again.

Roman scratched at his arms, digging his nails in deep so he could feel something that wasn’t the macabre thought of himself coming undone and falling into a pile of murky grey thread.

Roman braced himself against the seat, he wondered when his toilet freshener had gone missing. He wondered why he was tasting salt.

Roman gagged, trying to physically get rid of the feeling that was welling up inside him.

It wasn’t working. Instead, he only spit out clear bile.

“Stop it,” Roman growled to himself.

Since when did he get so pathetic? Nothing too terrible had even _happened_. He had no right to feel like this.

Roman coughed, his stomach contracting painfully. He felt a strange, gentle rubbing sensation from between his shoulder blades.

“Stop it,” Roman commanded himself again, squeezing his eyes shut as another wave of nausea overwhelmed him. The strange sensation ceased immediately.

This was stupid.

“ _Stop_ ,” Roman screamed, voice catching when he realized he was sobbing.

“I’m not doing it anymore, Roman.”

Roman blinked, turning his head slowly until he met a pair of mismatched eyes. One brown and the other.

Green.

“Remus?”

Remus nodded, “The one and unholy.”

“What are you doing here?” he asked, so stunned at the sudden appearance of his brother that, for a merciful moment, Roman’s spiraling thoughts momentarily dissipated.

“It _is_ my room, Roman. Love what you’re doing with the place though.”

Oh. He must have sunk into Remus’s room by accident.

He couldn’t even be sick properly.

The spiral resumed as Roman’s shoulders shook silently a few times before a sob ripped from his throat again.

“Ahh,” Remus assured frantically, “I actually meant that. I always thought this place could do with a bit more vomit!”

Roman wanted to laugh at that. All that came out was a high keen that dissolved into more feeble sniffles.

Remus shuffled on his knees, patting Roman’s hand awkwardly as Roman cried so hard he couldn’t see straight.

Roman felt guilt ram into him. He had stormed into Remus’s room, spewed his guts in his bathroom, and was now a wailing mess on his floor. No one deserved to deal with that.

“I’m a wailing mess three quarters of the time, Ro. I assure you that I’m fully equipped to deal with it.”

Roman looked up, wondering how much he had said out loud. How long had Remus even been there? How much had he heard?

“Just the caterwauling,” Remus said, eyes softening when Roman groaned into his hands, “and while I adore people dropping in unannounced like,” he waved in front of him, “literally. Dropping from the ceiling and splatting on the ground,” he cackled, “I’m sure you’d be more comfortable in your own room.”

Roman blinked slowly, but nodded. The horrible, awful feeling was still there, but lying in his bed sounded like heaven at the moment. Though, he grimaced at his clothes, he didn’t have the energy to sink himself out. Or change. But he needed to leave. His brother obviously didn’t want to deal with him anymore and he couldn’t blame him.

Remus rolled his eyes. “Stop being dramatic, dork,” Remus snapped and Roman was instantly in a black T shirt and maroon and black plaid pajama pants. He lunged for Roman’s wrist, but held it with surprising care as they were transported into Roman’s room.

“I’m coming with you.”


	3. The Fire Within and Without

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remus has entered the chat-
> 
> Remus's POV  
> Notes: mentions of vomit, panic attacks, fire, fainting, disturbing imagery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone!!  
> My computer is being wacky today so I hope this posts ok lolol  
> THANK YOU so much for reading! Hope you enjoy the chapter ;)

Remus didn’t have murder on his schedule for the week, but he supposed he could shuffle some things around.

Remus had been chilling on his bed, scrolling through Grinder (not to be confused with Grindr, the dating app. Grinder instead was a site full of organs, bugs, and other fun things being grinded into itty-bitty pieces. It made for a wonderful night in) when someone slammed onto his floor, scrambled a few times to get their footing, and launched themselves into Remus’s bathroom, hurling rather loudly.

Remus wondered if someone had food poisoning. And since they _did_ show up in Remus’s room, it would only be polite if they let him watch.

And so, Remus sauntered into his bathroom, keen on getting as many graphic details as possible, when he stopped.

It was Roman.

He and his brother shared an interesting relationship. They would fight each other in the Imagination often, trying to best the other in creating the strongest beings they could imagine, but they also shared the strangely mundane interactions that most siblings did. A few weeks ago, they had tied their sashes together to attempt to create a human sling shot (it didn’t work). Roman was constantly stealing from Remus’s candy drawer and Remus paid him back by hiding mouse traps in his shower.

Roman had popped into Remus’s rooms many times before and Remus had done the same to Roman, but this was different.

Roman didn’t even look like he could _see_ Remus at first. He was busy throwing up what looked to be an entire Harvest Festival and scratching insistently at his arms. Remus watched in dazed shock for a moment before Roman started carving small tendrils of red and Remus shook his head and tried to peel Roman’s hands away.

Remus frowned. Roman didn’t have a fever, but he was shaking uncontrollably. Remus wasn’t sure what to do, he wasn’t exactly the comforting type, but he had seen that rubbing someone’s back may help them feel less nauseous, so Remus tried that. It seemed to work for a bit until Roman had screamed ‘stop it.’

Remus wasn’t sure who he was talking to, but realized he didn’t care when he saw Roman’s face.

Wet.

With tears?

That couldn’t be right.

As if to directly contradict Remus’s thought process, Roman let out a sob. And then another. And another until he was practically drowning in them.

Unsure if it would help, he began to awkwardly pat Roman's hand. Remus felt a strange protectiveness well up, accompanied by the not so strange urge to bash the person responsible upside the head. He and his brother fought a lot, sure, but they were still _brothers_.

After having what seemed to be a very one-sided conversation, a very snazzy (if Remus did say so himself) costume change, and a few moments of Roman calming himself down, Remus sat on Roman’s bed as his brother buried himself in a thicket of blankets. Roman blinked at him from a small opening.

“Soooo,” Remus started with a whistle, “wanna tell me what happened?” _And who I have to kill?_ He tacked on as an afterthought.

Roman scuffled around a bit, hands tightening from inside his cocoon.

“Not really.”

Remus sighed, but nodded. He pulled up a chair, conjuring some water and Tylenol.

“What are you doing?” Roman asked, squinting. Remus handed him the water.

“Hush now little brother, drink your medicine.”

“Remus, we’re twins.”

“Yes, but I’m older.”

“Says who?!”

“Says me,” he shoved the pills into where he thought Roman’s hands were under the blankets and watched as he drank them, “I know enough about vomit to know that, if you do enough of it, you’re going to be crazy dehydrated and left with one hell of a headache if you just try and sleep it off.”

Roman drained the rest of the glass and eyed Remus.

“That’s not what I meant,” Roman said quietly, “What are you doing pulling up a chair? I’m in my room now. You can leave. I’m fine.”

Remus laughed, “I don’t need a snake to tell me that that’s a flat out lie.”

Roman flinched. Remus narrowed his eyes, but Roman just rolled over to his side.

“You don’t have to stay, you know.”

Remus cackled, leaning back and pulling up his phone, “Oh I know. I just love staying where I’m not wanted.”

Roman mumbled something into his pillow.

“Wat?” Remus asked, trying his best to mimic a duck sound.

“I said,” Roman lifted his head slightly, “I never said you’re not wanted.”

Remus paused his scrolling.

Then lifted a hand to his forehead.

“Oh! Oh did you hear that everybody! He wants me around!”

Roman flushed.

“Shut up!”

Remus wiggled his eyebrows, “My little brother loooves me.”

Remus caught the pillow that was hurled at his face.

“You’re not older!”

“Am too!”

“Are not!”

“Am too am too a skoodely-boo!”

“You’re a fucking nightmare sibling!”

Remus threw the pillow lightly back onto the bed with a grin.

“I know, thank you!”

“UGH, whatever.”

Roman huffed back onto his mattress.

“’M tired, gonna go to sleep.”

He flopped his head onto his ridiculous number of pillows, facing away from Remus.

Roman’s room wasn’t silent, there were occasionally gusts of wind from the imagined window and the rustle of some scuttling tails and padding paws, but it was much quieter than Remus’s room. Remus couldn’t tell if he found it calming or unnerving. As he was trying to solve his inner debate Roman, who he had assumed fell asleep, called him.

“Remus?” he asked.

“What happened to ‘gonna go to sleep’?”

A pause. Then.

“Thank you.”

Roman shifted and, after a few moments, fell into an even breathing pattern, finally, actually falling asleep.

Remus rubbed at his face, trying to ascertain why his face felt so weird.

Oh. He was smiling. He hadn’t even noticed, how strange.

Remus leaned back, picking at his mustache and upper lip as he scrolled through his phone. He probably could have gone back to his room, but something told him to stay. It wasn’t like it was late and call it brotherly instinct or a sense for the unusual, but whatever it was, Remus listened. He was the type of guy that listened to his gut. He had once tried to map out his stomach growling as morse code to see if his gut was trying to communicate with him. He was a gut guy.

An hour of mindless scrolling and Remus was starting to seriously doubt his gut and all is associated tubing, when something strange happened.

Quietly at first, but then gradually getting louder, the furniture in Roman’s room began to shake. The drawers trembled and the desk vibrated until, Remus rubbed his eyes, out marched supplies and pencils and markers and chalk.

Boards and canvases and easels are flew around the room. The materials criss-crossed each other, flying from corner to surface to corner.

At first, it was utter chaos. Remus couldn’t make heads or tails of anything. But then, after a few tumultuous moments and after Remus dodged nearly getting stabbed with an Exacto knife, the random shapes began to take form.

The dark blob of paint on the canvas turned into a face.

The angry blue and brown scratches on the easel turned into the shadows and highlights of a hand.

The pink-grey swatch on the wooden panel turned into a tongue.

Remus spun around the room in awe as each piece of art came to life.

A man ripping himself in half.

A man cutting out his own tongue with metallic, gleaming scissors.

A man holding a dead songbird and clutching at his throat.

Remus felt a strange giddiness bubble up from his stomach. He knew that Roman was sleeping, and he knew he needed it, but he couldn’t help it.

Inspiration!

Pure inspiration! Right in front of him, working away and creating with such fervor that it made Remus want to cheer.

“Roman!” Remus whisper-shouted, “Roman, look!”

As creative sides, inspiration usually struck quick and left no footprints. But rarely, they knew, inspiration could linger, creating out of seemingly nothing: bringing forth art in a form of true passion: emotion given form.

“Remus,” Roman started groggily, “wha-”

Roman paled. Remus didn’t notice.

“Holy fuck, Roman, this is-!”

“Disgusting.”

Remus blinked.

“Well. I mean, I do see that you’ve dipped your toe in my usual depictions, but you have my blessing! I mean look at all this-”

“Don’t look!” Roman yelled suddenly, jumping up. He waved his hand, trying to will everything to drop to the floor.

Nothing happened. If anything, the materials worked even faster, creating more portraits, more paintings, more art.

“Stop!” Roman cried and Remus furrowed his eyebrows.

“Why would you want it to stop, Roman?”

Roman ignored Remus. He leapt off his bed, trying to physically bring the work down and failing.

“Stop, stop it! Don’t look! Don’t _look_!”

Roman raked at one of the easels, but the supplies flew around, incorporating the scratch into the finished product: a man ripping apart his own ribcage to where his heart leaked out shriveled up flowers.

“Roman, what’s wrong?!” Remus cried and ran over to his brother who had collapsed to his knees with breathing that was all too shallow, “Roman, wha-” Remus looked around, when something finally dawned on him

All of the pieces. They were always the same person.

“Roman. Are these all yo-”

Roman screamed, and the easels went up in smoke.

“HOly-!” Remus yelped, getting up from his position next to Roman and trying to stamp out the fire, “Roman what are you-!”

Another scream ripped out of him, the canvases caught fire and Remus watched, horrified. He tried to summon water, but his brother’s flames were too hot. Remus grabbed Roman by the shoulders, trying to focus on one crisis at a time.

Roman’s eyes were blown wide. Remus had seen the purple-nurple with that same expression enough times to know what was happening. Remus let go of Roman’s shoulders and tried keeping his voice low and steady. Tried to coach him through his breathing, but none of it was getting through.

More of the art was catching on fire now. A drawer exploded and Remus saw an entire pile begin to char. He did his best to stomp out the flames and preserve _something_ before getting back to his brother, but nothing was working. Roman was beginning to sway and Remus knew he couldn’t do anything alone.

So he called the one side he probably shouldn’t have.

“JANUS!” Remus screamed, “GET YOUR SCALY BUTT OVER HERE RIGHT NOW!”

Remus coughed. The smoke stung his eyes and the heat was leeching away the oxygen from the room.

“Rem?” came a voice then a, “Holy _SHIT_!”

Remus spun around to see Janus, hair tussled and eyes suspiciously red-rimmed. His entire figure was cast in the orange glow of the fire as he stared at Remus.

“You started another fire?!”

“It wasn’t me! It was-!”

Remus shook his head.

“It doesn’t matter,” he pointed to a lump on the floor, “help him!”

Roman, the lump, whimpered from his position, cradling his head in his hands.

“I-what?” Janus asked. Remus groaned. Janus was supposed to be a smart side, too.

“He’s having a panic attack,” Remus said, as clearly as he could, “Nothing is working, I can’t,” Remus swallowed, “I can’t-” he gestured, trying to get Janus to understand.

And, somehow, he did.

Janus ran over to Roman. Hesitating for a moment, Remus saw something like guilt cross the coy side’s face, before he closed his eyes and leaned over.

Janus glowed yellow, the color mixing with the embers around him.

“It’s ok Roman,” Janus said, “It’s ok. You’re ok. You’re fine. Everything’s fine.”

Janus repeated his mantra over and over, disembodied voice resonating until Roman’s breathing calmed down. He looked up briefly before swaying and slumping into the snake-side’s arms, completely passed out. The fires around them died down and the art supplies clattered to the floor. Remus watched as Janus carried Roman to his bed and laid him down. He walked over to Remus who watched him with wide eyes.

“What did you do?” Remus asked, mystified.

Janus sighed.

“I lied to him.”


	4. Pass the Punch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No snakes were overly harmed in the making of this chapter-  
> Remus's POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLO!!  
> I'm really enjoying writing these two brothers :') I haven't seen my older brother in over a year (he's stuck outside the country because of the pandemic). He's an idiot, but I miss him so this fic has just been me projecting lmaoooo
> 
> Thank you all for indulging me and for all your comments and kudos 😭💖 Hope you enjoy the chapter! ;)

The next few minutes passed by in a blur for Remus.

Janus had tried to usher Remus out of the room, telling him that Roman needed rest. Not that he was wrong, but there was no way that Remus was going to leave Roman after whatever the hell that was. Plus, Remus wasn’t sure how Roman would react if he woke up to all the creations he nearly burnt up. They settled on letting Remus carrying Roman to the common room.

Upon hearing them, Virgil had bounded down the stairs with Logan closely trailing behind. Apparently, they had been looking for Roman ever since Roman had shown up in Remus’s room. They searched Roman’s room while he was in Remus’s and Remus’s room while he was in his own room. In a different context, it would have been funny. 

Patton had gasped from the kitchen where he was searching and knelt next to Roman, asking what had happened. Janus shushed him, but didn’t answer. Instead they all looked at Remus for an explanation. Remus tried to tell them what he could: how Roman had been violently sick, how he had blindly flailed and stumbled in Remus’s room, how Remus got him back to his room, but when Remus tried to tell them about the art, his voice cut out. He could only sink down next to the foot of the couch.

Remus felt something heavy drape around his shoulders, he tugged at the material and looked up.

“What’s this?” he asked, blinking at how flat his voice was. Virgil sat cross-legged in front of him.

“It’s a weighted blanket, dude.”

Remus only blinked at him again. Virgil scratched the back of his neck.

“You’re-uh. You started shaking pretty bad. I thought it would help?”

“Oh,” Remus said and looked down at his hands which were, true to what Virgil had said, shaking like they were filled with a billion skittering beetles. Remus tugged the blanket tighter around him.

"You think you can tell us what happened after you put Roman to bed?" Virgil asked softly.

Remus looked around the room. Patton and Janus were leaning against the chair opposite to Remus and the nerd had taken up the cushion next to Roman's head, brows furrowed deeply. Remus took a deep breath in, trying to force the words out. 

"He," Remus started and swallowed, "there was all this art being created as he was sleeping, but when I woke him up, he saw me looking and he," Remus took in a shuddering breath, bracing for the next part, "he tried to burn them. He tried to burn his creations."

Remus squeezed his eyes shut, opened them, and looked up, expecting to be met with expressions that reflected the same horror that he felt.

Instead, he was greeted by varying levels of confusion. 

"So...he didn't like what he made?" Virgil asked, abject horror frustratingly absent. Logan nodded.

"While fire is a rather violent method, is it not ok to get rid of pieces that you're unsatisfied with?"

Remus jumped up.

"That's not the point!" he yelled, wincing when they startled backwards. Remus rubbed his face and tried to calm himself.

"That's not the point," he repeated, "we may not like everything we create, and we can discard of ideas, but the things we create are still a _part_ of us to some extent. To try and get rid of it so violently, to try and deny its creation, it's like- it's almost like-"

Remus couldn't finish his sentence, surprised to feel a fat drop of water roll off his chin and onto the back of his hand. He wiped furiously at his eyes.

"It's just," Remus croaked and cleared his throat, "something obviously happened, but I don't know what."

Why hadn't he pushed Roman earlier for details? Maybe if he did, they wouldn't be in this situation. Remus wanted to smack himself, tackle Epimetheus in all his unhelpful hindsight and wrangle him to the ground.

Remus looked up, trying to eek out an apology to four very uncomfortable looking sides when Patton spoke up.

"Something did happen," he said quietly.

Remus whipped around to face him as he shuffled quietly. Virgil was glaring at the corner where he stood next to Janus, and Logan looked away, concentrating on picking strands of hair out of Roman’s face. 

"What?"

Patton eeped, Remus's tone must have sounded as foreboding as he felt.

Patton _had_ been the reason Roman was down lately. From supporting his cancellation of the callback to always cutting down his clever insults (Remus had helped with a few of those!) to whatever had happened in the video where he and Virgil had taken the day to fuck around on Animal Crossing.

"What did you do?" Remus growled, stalking over to the cardigan-clad side and slamming his hand into the wall. He felt someone tug at his sleeve.

"It wasn't him, Rem," Janus said quietly.

Remus laughed, "Don't try and protect him Janu-"

"It was me."

Remus blinked, staying uncharacteristically silent as Janus explained what had happened earlier during filming. A few more minutes passed and Remus still said nothing.

As a side who always said what was on his mind, being forced to tell the truth sounded like torture...for whomever happened to be listening. But for Roman? Remus closed his eyes as he watched Roman in his mind's eye: hands clawing at his sides, painfully throwing out nothing into the bowl below him as if to get something else out. 

Or someone out, as Remus had just learned. No wonder Roman had seemed so...violated.

"Janus?" Remus said, too quietly for the all-too-wide room. Janus gulped.

"Yeah, Rem?"

"I'm going to punch you."

Patton yelped and tried to jump in front of him. Janus patted his shoulder and pushed him aside. He nodded at Remus who let out a gravelly sigh, reeled back, and let his fist fly forwards.

Janus tumbled backwards. If Remus had used his full strength, he would have gone through the wall. 

Janus coughed from his position on the floor and Remus held out a hand to help him up.

"I deserved that," Janus conceded, grimacing as he rubbed his chest, "We good?"

Remus nodded, "For now. You're an asshole though."

"Seconded."

Remus and Janus both spun to see Logan helping a groaning Roman into sitting position.

Janus didn't deny it, sheepishly picking up his hat from the ground. 

"I didn't mean for it to go that far earlier," he admitted, "Really, Roman I-I'm sorry. Are you...ok?"

The question felt like it was referring to more than just recent events.

Remus darted his eyes between the two of them. He still didn’t know all of the details from what had happened after the wedding, but he did know that the tension between his brother and best friend had been palpable enough for Remus to bite.

Roman regarded Janus for a while, rubbing his arms a bit the way he did when he was making a decision.

"I... did agree to it,” Roman finally said and Remus didn’t miss how he avoided the second question, “I guess I just didn't realize how much I didn't want to acknowledge certain truths."

Remus frowned, confused, gratified that the other's expressions finally matched his own. 

"What truths are you talking about?" Patton asked and Roman gave a half-hearted shrug.

"You all heard it," he said, then looked at Remus, "Well most of you did," he laughed, "I'm a failure."

They all paused for a moment before erupting into a chorus of dissent. Roman put his hand up.

"Guys! Guys, it's ok, you don't have to lie to me,” Roman’s eyes flicked to Janus, “The truth was pulled out of me and now everyone knows."

Roman laughed again and Remus looked towards Janus.

"You know what, maybe we're not good because I really want to punch you again."

"That isn't true!" Virgil argued at Roman.

"Yeah, what the hell did you say to him?!" Remus yelled and Janus waved in front of himself.

"I didn't-! That's not-! It’s not like-!" Janus groaned at his inarticulation. He took a deep breath in and walked to where Roman was. Roman’s shoulders were hunched, coiled in on themselves like a spring and Janus had to kneel to make eye contact. 

"You made me tell the truth, didn't you? I was trying so hard to convince myself otherwise, but you proved it" Roman said, laughing softly, “I _am_ useless. I can’t create. You all really are better off if-”

Janus held a hand up, cutting Roman off, "I made you tell _your_ truth," Janus said, voice tinged with something hollow, “not _the_ truth.”

Roman rolled his eyes, “You and your semantics. What does it matter, My Little Phony? The truth is the truth.”

Logan frowned, “But that’s _not_ the truth,” he looked at Janus, “was your ability perhaps compromised in some way?”

Janus groaned and shook his head, “No, I’m trying to tell you,” he stood up, “Roman, what you said what I,” he sighed, “What I made you say. It’s what you _believe_ is true.”

“What?!” Patton yelped, “Kiddo, why would you think any of that?”

Roman paled, giving a half-hearted shrug.

“Because it’s…true?”

Virgil groaned from where he was perched on the couch arm.

“That word is starting to lose its meaning.”

“Did it have any in the first place?” Janus asked.

“Semantics,” Remus affirmed with an eye roll, “What is and isn’t ‘the truth’ doesn’t matter, what matters is what the hell made you think like that, Ro,” he looked at his brother, “You can create. You _did_ create, just now! And it was amazing!”

Remus’s eyes gleamed as he thought about it and he sat down next to Roman. The last time he had been hit with inspiration like that was when Thomas had to write a short story for his grade school class and he had constructed a full novel of how Thomas had electric powers and would go around electrifying the citizens of his town. Such as his brother.

Granted, it wasn’t as powerful as he had witnessed in Roman’s room, but he knew what it felt like. Creations pouring from your fingertips, new ideas bursting out from thin air, it was exhilarating, rapturous.

Roman grimaced.

It was _supposed_ to be rapturous, Remus amended when he saw the expression.

“But they aren’t good,” Roman said, replying to Remus, “I don’t- they’re not _good_.”

“Well, I think they’re great and, since I’m the older brother, my word carries more weight than yours.”

“You’re older?” asked Patton.

“He’s not,” Roman said.

“I thought you two were twins,” said Logan.

Roman shoved at Remus’s shoulder.

“You’re biased.”

“Actually,” Janus piped up, voice taking on its strange- awkward, scratchy tone for when he wanted to be genuine, “I saw a peek of a few of your works, Roman. I didn’t mean to, but what I did see, I thought was rather captivating.”

Roman blinked in surprise, his shoulders uncoiling just a fraction as he shifted.

“But they’re not ‘ _good’_ , like,” Roman sputtered for a moment. Janus raised an eyebrow.

“Semantics?” Janus asked.

“Semantics,” Roman agreed miserably, “It’s just not what I usually do. It doesn’t capture what- what Thomas usually expects from me.”

Logan hummed.

“I think I understand the issue,” everyone swiveled to look at the bespectacled side, “Like I’ve said before, Thomas views creativity as a force for ‘good’, which is what lead to the twins-er,” he scratched his nose, “or siblings, I suppose? I was not aware that Remus is older.”

“He’s not,” Roman groaned.

“I am, go on specs.”

“In terms of creativity, the definitions of ‘good’ and ‘bad’ are rather arbitrary. You can create emotional, positive art from negative emotions or ‘negative’, dark art from positive emotions or both or neither.”

“You lost me, L,” Virgil said. Logan sighed and rubbed his chin.

“Social psychologist Joe Forgas researched the topic of the correlation of ‘angst’, ‘sadness’, and ‘negative’ emotion with focus and processing. He found that these emotions, when acute, tend to fuel focus-driven work such as creation or tasks involving diligence.”

Everyone besides Janus gave Logan a blank stare. Janus patted his shoulder sympathetically.

“So what you mean is that using negative emotions can actually fuel creation?”

Logan nodded gratefully at the summary as ‘ohhs’ filled the room.

“And that creation can help one process these emotions,” Logan blinked, seeming to realize something, “Remus said he saw pieces dating back to a few weeks ago. How long have you felt like this, Roman?”

Roman shrugged.

“Was it from when we harped on all your ideas that one time?” Virgil asked, eye slightly shrouded.

Roman shrugged again, “I don’t know.”

“Was it perhaps the Christmas Carol video where we refused to follow your script?”

Roman’s nose wrinkled, “I don’t think so,”

“The callback?” Janus asked softly.

Another shrug.

“My video?” Remus asked, dreading the answer.

Roman scratched his head, “I don’t-”

“The wedding?” Patton asked, voice tiny.

“I DON’T _KNOW,”_ Roman yelled, “I don’t know,” he repeated quietly in the stunned silence, “I don’t know when or why, but-ugh,” he put his forehead to his knees, “I just feel like everything I make will just…let Thomas down.”

“Well did you ask him?” Remus asked. Roman shot him a confused look.

“Wha?”

“Did you show him? Did you ask him?”

“Well no, but-”

Remus put his hand up and launched himself off the couch. He wiggled his eyebrows.

“I have an idea.”


	5. Come in Sir-Hiss-A-Lot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The title was Remus's idea ;)  
> Roman's POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLO everyone!!  
> Thank you so much for your comments and kind words last chapter 😭💖  
> Hope you enjoy! ;)

“I feel dumb,” Roman said, trying to adjust his red bow tie as best he could.

“You mean you feel _fancy_ ,” Remus said, flicking a green bow tie of his own.

“One in the same in this case,” Roman grumbled.

“Semantics,” Remus said with a grin and Roman scoffed. Remus put a hand on his shoulder, black sleeve on Roman’s white jacket, expression strangely serious for a moment.

“Seriously, though Ro. If you don’t want to do this, we don’t have to. Just because you’re a part of Thomas doesn’t mean you don’t have the right to your own privacy. You don’t have to show him.”

Roman blinked at him.

When Remus had first suggested the idea of an art gallery as a way to show the others, Roman had vehemently refused because A). Roman may have been ego, but hosting his own art gallery 'bonanza' felt just over the pretentious mark and B). he didn’t want to admit it, but despite the content he was actually pretty proud of some of the work in terms of artistic technique. Even though he had harshly critiqued them himself, he wasn’t sure how he could handle a similar critique from his friends. Or, worse, Thomas.

But then, Remus had assured him that he’d ‘ease’ them into it with a few pieces he himself had created and that they could stop whenever Roman wanted. Remus then flew around for the next hour, shooing everyone besides he and Roman out and setting up boards and tables and frames. Half the room was painted a tasteful off-white and covered with a pale-gold curtain where Roman’s works from the past weeks laid. The other half was painted black and was where Remus set up his own work as well as some of Roman’s old pieces.

“No, I,” Roman pulled at the curtain, fingers twitching slightly, “it’s ok. Let’s do it.”

Might as well get everything out in the open now.

Remus beamed at him.

“Brilliant! Just leave everything to your trusty big brother!” he said with a wink and pointed to himself. Roman rolled his eyes.

“You’re really stuck on that concept, aren’t you?”

“What concept?”

“That you’re older.”

“But I am.”

“No you’re not!”

“Am too!”

“We’re twins!”

“I’m the older twin!”

“What, by like a few seconds?”

“Mmm, more like,” Remus tapped his chin, “What sounds good? A year? Year and a half? Yeah, let’s go year and a half.”

“That doesn’t make sense!”

“Don’t take that tone with me! I have a year and a half on you, you fetus!”

“You _just_ made that up!!”

“Prove it!”

“UGH!” Roman yelled, pulling Remus’s bow tie so that it untangled and fell at his feet. Remus yelped in offense. He was balancing a model of a cat vertebrae stabbed inside of jar of dirt. He attempted to retie his bowtie with one hand and set the model down with the other.

“You’re lucky I have the saint-like patience that befits the older sibling,” Remus said when he was done. Roman bit his tongue to keep from starting another shouting match and instead watched Remus work. He helped to put up some of his pieces, surprised to see that Remus had much more writing when compared to Roman. Some were snippets of stories, some were poetry paired with sculptures. Roman leaned down to read the plaque next to a sculpture of a person whose teeth were made of reflective glass.

_Pretty, shiny mirror teeth_

_Line them up and keep them neat_

_Silver, copper, mercury_

_Your mirror teeth have sprung a leak_

Roman shuddered. Like most of Remus’s creations, Roman couldn’t help but feel slightly on edge, but when he thought past the initial shiver, he couldn’t help but think.

Remus’s art was graphic, sure. Disturbing sometimes, even. But it made people _feel_ something. And, as he looked at the sharp angles of the sculpture, the way Remus had textured the skin so that he could even see the small pores in the person’s face, Roman found another word to describe it.

Incredible.

“Show time's almost here, Ro, you ready?”

Roman tore his eyes away from the sculpture and nodded at his brother.

“Ready.”

Remus grinned and snapped. A small walkie-talkie appeared in his hand.

“Octo-boss to Sir-Hiss-A-Lot. Octo-boss to Sir-Hiss-A-Lot, come in Sir-Hiss-A-Lot.”

A few moments of static, then, from the other side of the device.

“Must we do the nicknames, Remus?”

“Ah, sorry, don’t know a Remus.”

The static increased as the side at the other end groaned loudly.

“Must we do the nicknames,” a sigh, “Octo-boss?”

“Yes!” Remus cheered, “it adds to the atmosphere, unless you want to add another month of dish duty to your sentence?”

Roman snorted. Janus had felt exceedingly guilty about the incident earlier. And while Roman still wasn’t quite over what had happened, it was hard to stay mad at someone who was groveling. Plus, Remus _had_ punched him and, from experience, Roman knew those punches weren’t a fun. Even at a fraction of his normal strength.

Perhaps they both had things to apologize for. And they’d have that difficult conversation later. For now, Roman had settled on sentencing Janus to three months of doing his chores. Roman told him to ‘put those gloves of his to use’ and Janus’s reaction had been strangely satisfying.

“No, no. Well then. I, Patt- I mean,” Janus coughed lightly from his end, “The Ribbeter, Purple Nurple, Guys and Ties, and The Guest of Honor are all ready. Should we appear in the mind palace now?”

“How’s the Guest of Honor?” Remus asked.

“Confused but excited, just as you requested.”

“Fantastic,” Remus said, “Come on down!”

A spotlight shone down in the middle of the room and in it appeared Janus, Patton, Virgil, and Logan, all dressed in assorted thematic attire.

Janus had added a small, yellow feather to his hat and had chosen a longer cape and plaid, copper trousers. Patton wore a blue-checked high-waisted pant with a slightly cropped tan blazer and a tucked in white shirt accompanied with a tiny hat that Roman had only ever seen British ladies wear to special events. Logan donned a black vest and a dark-blue, satin button down shirt, his blue tie swapped out for a tasteful silver one. Even Virgil had forgone his normal hoodie in favor of a long, dark purple trench coat, a one-piece black romper with a deep V neck and tightly woven fish-net stockings.

Roman felt his face flame and his heart melt a little. He couldn’t believe everyone would get so dressed up for this. For _him_.

Thomas peeked up from behind the four of them, not looking nearly as fancy since he didn’t have the ability to simply imagine on new clothes, but wearing a gold-trim, short-sleeve mauve button down and his best pair of jeans.

“Welcome all ye bastards,” Remus boomed, and the spotlight flew to him, “To the first annual Creativitwin Art Extravanagza!”

Patton and Thomas whooped as the others clapped.

“Here you shall see,” he swept his arm, “The dichotomy of two brothers! The intrigue and _mystery_ of creativity in all its forms and,” he gestured towards the curtains, “as the grand finale: Emotion! Given! Life!”

He bowed.

“Enjoy!”

More cheers from the crowd. Roman clapped, laughing at Remus’s ridiculous display but also caught up in the excitement. Everyone wandered around the room, taking in the pieces. Roman caught Virgil using Remus’s mirror sculpture to check between his teeth, but Roman was more focused on one person.

“These are all amazing, you two!” Thomas exclaimed, twirling around the room as if he was trying to take a personal panorama shot. He stopped at where Remus had fashioned a dead squid out of tweed and spare pieces of hay, “a bit gruesome at some points, but still awesome!”

Remus’s face practically (and almost literally) split apart at the praise. Roman made a mental note to make Remus show Thomas his creations more often at times that weren’t when Thomas was trying to sleep. Maybe then, Thomas would appreciate them more.

“Is this me?” Logan asked, pointing at a painting that Roman had done months before. Roman trotted over.

It was Logan, spooning jam from a jar that read ‘Logan’s Berry’. Roman remembered that painting. He had been disappointed at first that he didn’t get his own jam, but seeing his normally stoic friend so excited had inspired his to create the portrait. Other than the jar and the metallic spoon, the rest of the piece was made in abstract shapes of color. Two framed black squares for Logan’s glasses, a blue diamond for his tie.

Roman glanced at Logan whose hand was hovering over the rendered jar.

“Do you want it?” Roman asked.

Logan jumped back.

“Wha-that,” Logan started and pursed his lips, “I-I’m ashamed to say that I don’t have much knowledge about art, though.”

Roman hummed.

“Does this piece make you feel something?” he asked.

Logan tilted his head in thought for a moment before nodding. Roman grinned and snapped his fingers. A small plaque under the piece titled ‘Property of Logan’ appeared.

“Then that’s enough. It’s yours.”

Logan’s eyes widened and he nodded in thanks.

The rest of the evening was spent showing the others art, gifting a few pieces (Patton had seemed strangely taken with one of Remus’s metallic crows, Virgil kept a holographic drawing of the rabbit from Alice in Wonderland that Roman had put together), and chatting.

Roman was just finishing showing Thomas a wall of seashells he had done when Thomas piped up.

“These are great, Roman, really. But, uh,” he shifted uncomfortably, “Is-we’re not just distracting from what happened earlier, right?”

Roman blinked.

“Because!” Thomas waved his hands in front of his, “Because if that’s what this is that’s fine, I mean I love looking at your creations but,” he kicked at the ground, “we do need to talk about what happened. Address some of the things you said because-”

“Actually, Thomas,” Roman said, nudging Thomas’s rapidly bouncing foot, “that _is_ why we’re doing this,” he nodded at the curtained wall, “the-uh. For the past few weeks, I’ve been not-not feeling the greatest.”

Thomas frowned.

“Yeah, I get what you mean.”

That caught Roman off guard.

“You- you do?”

Thomas nodded, “The wedding? The callback? Trying to think of video ideas without washing out? It’s been pretty rough,” he frowned at himself again, “I should have known that you’d be taking it the hardest, though.”

Roman gaped. Sometimes, silly as it sounded, he forgot that he was a _part_ of Thomas.

“So,” Roman said, feeling more confident now, “so I’ve been creating some…things. Some things that may seem,” he coughed, “unusual? For me, I guess?”

“Oh?”

Roman nodded then, before he could chicken out, signaled his brother. Remus caught his eye and nodded.

“Listen up cowards and fools!” Remus boomed, Roman wondered where he had gotten his material from, “It’s time for the main event!”

Roman stood at the side of the curtain with his brother, still feeling a little silly, but gratified that the others seemed actually expectant as they waited for the curtain to fall.

“From the depths of my little brother’s mind,” he started.

“Wait, Remus is older?” Thomas asked.

“He’s not!” Roman protested.

“By a year and a half,” Remus said, continuing, “I present to you: the Pride in Flames collection!”

The curtain dropped. Roman wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but the audible gasp made him tense up. Roman peeked open an eye.

Bathed in the dim fluorescent, Roman’s works looked even more vivid than before, seeming to emit a light all on their own. A man held together by stings and veins seemed to dance in his easel, the pieces with blood glistened, defying gravity by staying suspended in their paintings. Remus had gotten rid of most of the charring, somehow using a combination of framing and lighting to restore the pieces.

Roman passed his face from side to side. Janus seemed to go from piece to piece, slowly analyzing each stroke before moving on to the next one. Patton’s eyes flitted from board to board, never staying on one for too long. Logan rubbed at his chin, getting captured by one particular piece and staring at it for a few minutes without moving away. Virgil’s lips were slightly parted, an appreciative hum emanating as his eyes took in the works as a whole and Thomas-

Thomas burst into tears.


	6. Prometheus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roman's POV

Well Roman hadn’t been expecting _that_.

Thomas’s shoulders shook, but he waved away Patton’s attempts to comfort him. He looked up.

“S-Sorry, sorry, it’s just,” he took in a long, almost comical sniff, “I just,” he gestured at the wall and then at himself and then at the wall, “you know?”

Roman shook his head. He did not know. Thomas groaned and wiped his eyes.

“It’s just, it’s all,” Thomas snapped his fingers in front of himself, then gestured at Logan.

“Thomas seems to be experiencing a close, personal identification with these pieces and is thus feeling a bit overwhelmed at the moment,” Logan clarified. Thomas nodded and pointed at him.

“Yeah! That! It’s like everything, everything from the past few months is there,” he floated his hands in front of him, “right in front of me. And Roman, they’re _beautiful_.”

Remus bumped Roman when he didn’t respond. Roman’s cheeks turned bright red.

“Really?” he asked and Thomas nodded fervently.

“It’s like everything that I’ve been feeling, everything I couldn’t express-they’re,” he stopped and frowned a little, “why did you wait until now to show them to me, though?”

Roman hummed and explained his thought process from before. How he didn’t think the pieces were _good_ in the quintessential sense of the word. How he thought Thomas would shun him as his 'light' creativity if he ever produced something that seemed…dark. Thomas’s eyes widened.

“Oh Roman,” he whispered, looked down at his shoes, then looked back up, a sudden fire in his eyes as he march up and grabbed the side into a hug. Roman squeaked in surprise for a moment before hugging back. Tightly.

“I never realized how much I was limiting you,” Thomas said after a moment, voice gravelly, “limiting myself and my content. Trying to make everything a purely positive force, it’s unattainable and, frankly, not always the most inspiring, but this,” he looked around the room, “this _is_.”

Roman began to pull away, but Thomas held on. He looked up and gestured at someone at his side.   
“And that goes for both of you.”

The side being addressed squeaked as Thomas pulled him into the hug.

“You were right, Remus,” Thomas said, “Trying to force my creativity through one, constraining filter is only hurting me.”

Thomas finally let the two of them go. Roman noted that Remus had gone almost pale. Roman punched his shoulder.

“Hear that, big bro? You were right, though next time you try to make a point, maybe don’t hit me over the head with a mace.”

Remus didn’t respond for a moment, but eventually he nodded slowly, a small smile blooming under his mustache.

Thomas turned to the rest of the sides.

“This, this has been great, you guys. Thank you for setting all of this up, in fact,” Thomas’s eyes lit up in a way that Roman hadn’t seen in a while but that he recognized instantly.

“I have an idea,” Thomas said, spinning around, searching for his laptop before remembering that he was in the mindscape, “for a new project! One that focuses on,” Thomas began pacing, “On-on people who feel like they don’t have a voice,” he pointed to Remus’s mirror sculpture and Roman’s picture of a person cutting out their tongue, “on the pain of not being listened to, but,” he pointed to one of Roman’s earlier pieces, a pomegranate blooming with red hyacinths from its center, “but how wonderful it feels when you are.”

Logan had summoned a planner and a box of utensils. Patton was bouncing up and down on his heels and Virgil was somehow saddled with the task of handing Logan different colored markers at his command.

“A new project is certainly feasible, Thomas, blue please Virgil,” Logan asked and Virgil’s hand hovered uncertainly over the 20 different shades of blue markers before just closing his eyes and picking one, “but you’ll have to move some things around. Perhaps, yellow highlighter, please Virgil,” Logan asked, Virgil groaned, shuffling around the box until he could produce the marker, “move up your appointment next week and recruit your, green sticky note please Virgil,” Logan asked. Virgil huffed and stuck one on Logan’s forehead. Logan blinked.

“Perhaps recruit a few friends on the project. Ones you know have experiences in line with your vision.”

Thomas nodded, “Great idea, Logan. You and Virgil can help with the scheduling, see where anything may go wrong. Patton?”

Patton nodded excitedly.

“You think you can get on that list of friends?”

“You can count on me, kiddo!”

“Thomas can count on most surfaces, Patton, though I don’t see how that’s relevant,” Logan said. Roman snorted.

“Janus, you think you can dig up some research on times in the past where people were silenced and those effects?” Thomas asked.

“A topic on not being able to tell the truth? Forced censorship? Surely I’m the _worst_ side for the job,” Janus replied with a smirk. Thomas turned to the twins and grinned.

“And you two,” Thomas exclaimed, “I’d like you two to head this whole thing up. If-uh,” Thomas scratched at his temple, suddenly sheepish now that his initial adrenaline was slowing down, “if you’re up to it, that is.”

“You want- you want us? Both of us?” Remus asked. Thomas nodded, hands in fists in front of him.

Remus played with his bowtie.

“What do you say, Ro?”

The room was silent, as if everyone were holding their breath for Roman’s response. Roman looked up at the pieces he had made over the months. Pieces that he hated, that he wanted to burn, that he nearly _did_ burn.

The same pieces that his brother had called amazing.

The same pieces that inspired Thomas.

He turned to his brother.

“I say we should pile a few more chores onto Janus,” he laughed as Janus groaned, but didn’t object, “because we’re about to get very busy.”

Roman may have been a part of Thomas, a piece of his creativity. But standing there, a new project in the future and the promise of something bright, for the first time in a long time, Roman felt whole.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh shoot was this a Remus acceptance arc disguised as Roman angst? We may never know...
> 
> HELLO LOVELY, AMAZING READERS!!  
> Wowee this fic was a fun one to write! Thank you all so much for reading! Seriously, like I’ve said before, writing has been one the few things to keep me sane in these 5 (6?) months of quarantine~
> 
> And unfortunately (or fortunately depending on how you look at it) my quarantine is about to come to a bit of an end- in person classes start in a week, I’m starting at a new school and *stares at the piles and piles of things that litter my living space* I need to p a c k -
> 
> Sooo I’m taking a break from writing to focus on packing, school, and remembering how to socialize (though I don't think I can blame quarantine for my lack of skill in that one. But dammit if I'm not gonna try). Thank you all SO much for all of your support. I’ll be back, probably sooner rather than later (especially if that new video drops) and I hope that I can nurture this newfound passion for writing that I discovered because of all of you!💘💘
> 
> In the meantime, you can come scream at me on tumblr (@quarantinevibes2020) where I post poorly drawn ts sides comics/ doodles and the occasional oneshot !
> 
> Whatever you decide, thank you again so, SO much for reading!   
> Until next time, whenever that may be :’)


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